Memories of a Broken Heart
by Letheanlove
Summary: Danny is alone, and finally without a purpose. So what else is there left for him to do but reflect on the events - tragic and otherwise - of his life? / Trigger warning; mentions of self harm. Feedback welcome.


**I'd been meaning to do a Danny Phantom fanfic for like ever, so I figured it was about time! This is more an overview to get an idea of what possible future stories would feel like, and explore some thoughts and emotions I might want to further play with. So if it's lacking, I'm sorry! I wrote this mostly for my own benefit.**

Memories of a Broken Heart

Oh, how it had started.

A game, really. An innocent dare not meant to bring about much of anything. But in that moment of pain — comparable to that of dying, having your soul ripped out and then roughly replaced — in that blinded moment where he couldn't think about much of anything because it was so excruciating he couldn't even scream, a nearly inaudible voice in the back of his head knew _everything _had suddenly changed.

He didn't know exactly in what ways, laying on the ground and trying to focus his gaze on his friends hovering over him. He vaguely remembered wondering if how he suddenly felt out-of-body had anything to do with it, but everything still hurt and he couldn't think straight and the voices yelling didn't make any sense to him — were those tears in Sam's eyes? — and he just didn't know.

But looking back on it, he supposed he _did _know, even before the incident. Because then his life had felt empty. Like it was missing something. Or maybe, he wondered, like it was waiting for something like this.

A chance.

A chance to prove he was something. A chance to become more than Danny Fenton. More than that bullied kid who was pushed around in high school. More than the son of some crazy ghost hunters. A chance to strengthen what he was weak in; being truly invisible. And in the end, it did become a strength. He become a Phantom.

Sure, becoming some sort of celebrity ghost hero picking up the mess his parents had unknowingly created hadn't exactly been what his subconscious was looking for, but life happens and sometimes you just can't change it.

And he could remember the turmoil his new secret had brought. Because, once he knew he just _had_ to become some super-ghost kid — because, c'mon, who wouldn't let the idea of being a superhero grow on them? — he knew he was in it for the long run. And with that realization, he realized something else.

His identity had been torn in two.

He would forever be a halfa. A _ghost_. Doomed to the double life of living with ghost hunters as parents. Trying to balance the emotional struggle both polar opposites brought. It nearly drove him crazy, trying to remember the proper behavior for the proper time. He could still remember the days he had gotten it mixed up and nearly ended up dead, and the days of teenage angst and depression and teetering on the edge.

It wasn't like near-death instances weren't often occurrences in the ghost clean-up business… but being nearly killed by ones own parents has a toll on someone and it's only a matter of time before their being is ripped apart by every form of anxiety, and nearly being the cause of your own death is equally as terrifying. Because if you couldn't save yourself from the dark times in your head, what kind of hero could you be?

But Jazz pulled through for him. As did Tucker and Sam. They always pulled through. So did his parents once they eventually found out, and Danny was left feeling stupid for ever doubting their unconditional love and his refusal to tell them. It would have saved him a world of trouble and bad decisions.

Lump rising in his throat from flashes of those times, he wondered if any of them ever regretted it. Helping him. He wasn't sure about then, but he was almost positive they would have now. Because no matter how well it had started, it was bound to fall.

And oh, how it had fallen.

Sam was the first. Driven just short of mad from a most particularly hard villain they had ever come across. He hadn't ever given it much thought before, how they would all eventually die, so he never thought about who would have been first.

But god, why did it have to be her?

And then it was his parents. They went out the way they would have wanted, but that fact didn't lessen any of the pain. Tucker and Jazz barely put it at bay. The sadness breathed down his back, cold breath causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end and fear to suffocate his heart.

He thought about death in many forms after that.

Jazz and Tucker held out the longest. But they too eventually fell. Tucker had been the last, but not the end of his fears. He could still see every single one of their blood-covered selves in gruesome detail. He could remember every aspect of their deaths, and their voices and memories of good and bad filled his head.

And it was too much. He didn't have anyone to fall back on. And, sitting here in the blood crying from wounds on his wrists and tears drowning his cheeks and vision, a pain far worse than the soul being ripped out of his chest had permanently taken over… because he knew his soul wasn't going to be returned this time. It had been yanked out, shattered to pieces, and thrown away. How could you survive that?

In those thoughts of death, he came across another realization. He was half-ghost. Half dead. But as far as he was concerned, he had become completely devoid of life. And after the years of cleaning up ghosts out of a sense of duty and honoring the memory of those he had lost and loved deeply, he had finally caught the last. Finally sealed the portal once and for all.

And he was free.

Free to finally join those he loved. Free to finally claim a full identity. Because, after tonight, he had every intention uniting his torn identity.


End file.
